


The ASS MAster

by AllyGurl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: I dont give a fuck what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyGurl/pseuds/AllyGurl
Summary: THisis an unfinished fic I will never finish





	The ASS MAster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I dedicate this to Rachel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=I+dedicate+this+to+Rachel).



CHAPTER ONE: THE ASS MASTER

Once upon a time you dated dat boii. He was a handsome young frog gent, and although the only words he were capable of were screaming OH SHIT WHADDUP, they were enough. Dat boii loved you. He loved you more than his beloved unicycle, which said a lot, since he would never be seen without it. You could do the simplest things; make a cup of coffee, smile, doodle things on napkins, and he could find a million things he loved about you. Just seeing your beautiful smile was enough for him to screech “OH SHIT” out of pure affection for you. But unfortunately for you, you lived in a world where nations came to life before your very eyes. Austria was like “FUCK NO” so you always had to run away, as he wanted to kill dat boii and ship him off to france to be eaten along with his other brethren. For as long as you could remember living in Vienna, Austria had always had a huge crush on you because he liked the way your hair fluttered in the wind and all other sorts of romantic ass shit. He especially loved that fine ass that often competed with Spain's for the title of “world’s finest booty”. If anyone knew a fine ass, it was Austria. Over the course of his lifetime he had been collecting marriages amongst those with booties he found fit to mount upon his trophy shelf. Eliza, Spain, France, and at one point Prussia’s ass had been mounted upon his wall, but then he had decided that it was no different from his face since shit constantly spewed out of both ends. So, of course, prussia had to be removed from the wall and promptly placed into the garbage where he belonged since it matched his personality oh so well. Now, the aristocrat had his eyes on your fine booty, and would settle for no less. Afterall, there was a reason he was known as ASStria, and although it correlated quite well with his personality at times, he was not named for such. (In case you’re 12 and cannot understand this, it is eloquent language for saying that he loves ass and is an ass. If you’re 12 you probably also shouldn't have an account, but that’s none of my business…. MOVING ON.)

One fine day, you and your froggy lover were enjoying a hot cup of viennese coffee on the patio of what was obviously a viennese cafe in downtown Vienna, of Austria. (Seriously where the hell else would a viennese cafe be?)   
“I’m certainly glad you agreed to come out here~” You cooed to dat boi, who restlessly wheeled back and forth upon his unicycle, spilling coffee everywhere and screeching every minute or so “OH SHIT” as a proper response to your affections. Everything was fine and dandy until OH NO ITS GODZILLAAA AAAAAH EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE. DESPERATION SCENTS THE AIR AND MELTS THE STREETS. No that didn’t happen. Austria just happened to be walking by on one of his common evening strolls that resulted in him becoming lost as per usual. Although you would’ve much rather had it been Godzilla than Austria. (Perhaps then something exciting would happen instead of playing out another teenage romantic drama that we can all see will have the same generic plot twist where the girl falls in love with the boy you never would’ve expected her to despite rooting for him the entire boring hour and a half you're forced to watch their unrealistic lives play on the screen.) As soon as the stern aristocrat’s eyes landed upon you and your unicycling boyfriend, it was evident the fury that burned in his soul for your affections to be kept to him, and to him alone, like a thousand suns fueled by love, and compassion, and booty. In a way, it made your heart throb for the temperamental man. He must have been lonely in that giant mansion of his and having to play spoiled house cat all the time. Dat boy, noticing your sympathetic gaze catch interlock with the much hated austrian began to screech.  
“OH SHIT. OH SHIT. OH SHIT. OH SHIT.” He repeated, mimicking the actions of a small child the tourettes and flailing his arms around once more, disturbing the young couple behind you by dumping boiling coffee all over his date’s face, who then began to scream as her skin slowly melted. The moment now lost, you quickly broke off eye contact and turned all of your attention once more to dat boii, who seemed to be basking in the triumph of freaking out the Austrian so much with his childish acts that he quickly hauled his own perfect ass from the scene, his mentality scarred for life. You felt something deep down.. Was it.. Disappointment..? No.. it couldn’t have been, for you loved your meme, and your meme only. It was probably just gas or something equally as disgusting to size the Austrian up or down to. Still though… despite however much Dat Boii lovingly whispered “OH SHIT” into your ear and the two of you made hot steamy love with his unicycle, you still felt empty. 

*****

It was another few days before your brown-ish, blue-ish, green-ish colored eyes spotted the musician again. This time, it was you who ran into him. From where you stood on the sidewalk you observed his graceful figure through the glass; the way his whole jaw unhinged and attacked the sachertorte as though he were the vacuum and it the dirty which coated the floor, how he managed to choke on the fork before projecting it across the entire restaurant and directly into a waitress’s eye, and lastly the precaution he took in gently dabbing any remaining crumbs from his face. It was all so very lady-like. Catching yourself in awe over his cake etiquette you shook your head and gasped. ‘No,’ you warned yourself, ‘No. Your heart belongs to another. You will not let your ass become but a trophy upon his shelf.’ But you secretly liked the idea of the world marveling at your glorious booty, and Austria proudly displaying it in the same fashion Will Smith does to show off his wife and his children which have become a burden to our society and will never contribute anything of any use ever again despite the cringing memory of “whipping your hair back and forth” and tweets which resembled that of a stoner with an IQ lower than a rock’s. You had become so lost in your fantasy of sharing your ass with the world amongst such high ranks that you had completely forgotten the Austrian within his cake heaven. Now, rather confused I might add as to why the hell you were stalking him with your face pressed up against them glass, he stood before you, a well manicured brow cocked and lips curled down into a frown.   
“I couldn’t help but to notice you watching me…” Austria began, licking the remains of the torte he had inhaled previously from his lips seductively. Unsure of how you should react to being so close to the admirer of your ass and also the man besides your beloved meme who made your heart beat faster than an italian pumped up on pixie sticks and faced with war, you simply screeched before turning and running directly into a lamp post. Unfortunately for you, that was the last thing you remembered that day. It also happened to be the most interesting thing to happen to the aristocrat in his lifetime and left him a baffled and starring mess. 

CHAPTER DUEX: SOMETHING SATIRICAL

It wasn’t until the next morning that you came to after your strange episode in the public streets of Vienna. However where you were exactly was a mystery to you. All around you were fancy silk draperies and half drawn windows beaming with golden light and setting the cream wood work alight. ‘Well this certainly isn’t where I remember being…’ You thought to yourself and fearfully glanced about the eloquently decorated room for dat boii, your lover. Your chest tightened suddenly as you realize your beloved meme was nowhere to be found, leaving you alone in a strange room with no recollection of how you possibly got there.  
After taking a moment to clear your head you finally worked up the courage to leave the room which was probably fit for a prince. (Or a princess in this case.. Or not. This wasn’t exactly made for males in case you haven't noticed but as long as you don’t mind picturing yourself with voluptuous breasts that shouldn’t be a problem.) Outside the room came the faint sound of music… High pitched and probably autotuned or some other form of horrendous vocal editing. It was… The Price Is Right..? ‘Well that was certainly anti-climatic’, you thought to yourself, disappointed that it wasn’t something a bit scarier and more adventurous. The theme song to the world’s most annoying game show would have to work for now. Carefully, you tip-toed down the steps of the pricey mansion. Now, the theme song was followed by an enraged voice-- but not the kind of enraged voice that you might compare to a biker gang or a mobster that has been upset that Vinnie doesn’t have his goddamn money. No, this sounded more like a disappointed mom who was currently yelling at the school principal that her child was in fact very talented and gifted when it reality he sat in the back of the classroom and picked his nose for boogers instead of listening to lessons, and afterwards cried when he wrote his three’s backwards.   
All evidence of fear pumping through your veins had now been replaced with an emotion that quite hard to describe. You were somewhat confused, but mostly weirded out that someone was taking a game show so seriously. And whoever this nerd biscuit was, a small dog could probably fight them and win. And when I say small, I mean really small… like one of those floof puppies that are about the size of a children’s pompom. If a small dog could take this guy on, you probably could too considering the fact that your power was equivalent to like… four small dogs, or maybe even five. Filed with determination (AHAHAHAHAHA UNDERTALE REFERENCE. CAN WE BE FAMOUS NOW??!) to escape your capturer you lunged out from behind the wall and into the parlor. Sadly it was nothing exciting. Austria sat on his couch, an ill drawn scoreboard on a crumped piece of notebook paper in in one hand, and a pen furiously waving at the television was in another as he yelled german vulgarities at the screen before switching to english for the convenience of our audience.   
“Damn you! Who the hell would pay $250 for a microwave?! That’s just ridiculous! This show is rigged! That appliance was worth no more than $75 and Bob Barker knows it! Why do you like the stupid one Bob…!? WHY?!” He continued to insult the 92 year old man that could die of heart failure at any given moment, but for some strange reason no one seemed to give a single fuck about his health.   
“What the Hell.” You suddenly interrupted his tirade, unable to hold back your disbelief any longer, and causing for the aristocrat to jump from where he sat, startled by your voice joining his.   
“O-Oh good… you’re awake…” He grumbled, cheeks dusting a light pink out of embarrassment for being caught in such an act.   
“I dragged you home by your ankle because you were being a basic bitch and ran into a fucking lamp post.” Although it seemed as though he were doing his best not to stare at your magnificent booty, it was of no use. The booty was too strong for him to resist his urge to gaze upon its greatness. Noticing his entranced state caused by your fine ass, you raised an eye. You had always known that Austria had a thing for you booty, and your booty alone, but the way he looked upon it now was different. It was not a hungry gaze, or one that was animalistic. No. This gaze was soft and longing, and almost sad-- the same kind of emptiness found in the eye of one who has just eaten their last fry and reaches into the bag for more only to find that is empty and their last fry was cruelly scarfed down without the intent of savoring the tango of fried goodness and salt. It twisted your heart to see such a man with a passion for ass look so broken as he stared upon your own. ‘No,’ You had to stop yourself again for having empathy for this aristocrat. Dat Boii was waiting for you to return. He was probably running around the kitchen on his unicycle screaming “OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT” as he frantically racked his brain for where you could’ve run off to.   
“W...Well thank you I guess…” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks grow warm with color as he oogled your beautiful booty.  
“B..But Now I have to leave, so goodbye.” The conversation was quickly ended by your curt voice before you turned away from him so that he would not see how flustered you had become over the thought of him ravishing dat fine ass.   
“W-Wait--” he called out, suddenly taken a hold of your arm and jerking backwards so that your… whatever the fuck you like to think of your eyes relating to.. Orbs met his. And then that smooth bastard kissed you, right on the mouth. Despite Dat Boii being your one true love, you couldn’t help but to sink into the kiss. But what was his fiery kiss fueled by?! Was it the way you attempted to ignore him on the streets and since he could not claim it as your own?

 

I was gonna write more but I had to contain myself


End file.
